


Pretender

by EmmyJay



Series: Ivory Ascending [11]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: (skekSo is an old man who can't get it up without Essence), Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Dehumanization, Erectile Dysfunction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Imprisonment, Intersex, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Threats, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyJay/pseuds/EmmyJay
Summary: The Emperor's POV forIronstone.  Seladon's little outburst begets punishment.
Relationships: Seladon/skekSo (Dark Crystal)
Series: Ivory Ascending [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528451
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Pretender

**Author's Note:**

> I wassssssssss hesitant to post this. In part because it seemed...I dunno, gratuitous? But enough people expressed interest, so. Here it it, I guess. Thank you to [voidwithin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidwithin) for helping me decide on a title.
> 
> Second chapter of 'Falling and Flying' should be along by next weekend at the latest, possibly sometime during the week.

_"Show me."_

The drawstring neck of the Gelfling's gown had enough give that it opened around her shoulders, and skekSo pulled it down her body with only a few seams torn. She did not resist him, though she flinched and covered herself with her hands once he had her bare. It was nearer to his expectations, yet still not how he had imagined her, when he had decided to relay the news of her thief-sister's demise. He had pictured her crumpling in despair, weeping and wailing in agony; he had been eager to bask in her misery, lap the tears from her cheeks as he stripped her of her dignity.

But that had not happened. Instead the whore-queen had lashed out, _struck_ him (the audacity, the absolute **gall**)—and worse, forced him to subdue her by force and further ruin her lovely face. The whole affair had left him struggling to reign himself in, his anger exhausting him until he could only hold her down and gasp, until his breaths evened and her futile kicking ceased.

Still, her supplication now was enough to placate skekSo's more violent urges. It seemed her earlier burst of defiance had been merely a passing fit, no doubt brought on by grief, or some other sentimental Gelfling foolishness. She had merely needed a reminder of her position to temper her, banish all thoughts of resistance from her pretty silver head.

(She should be grateful he was magnanimous enough not to take it out of her sister's hide.)

The Gelfling still did not resist him as he guided her hand through the opening of his robes, yet she did jump in alarm and attempt to pull away (_pitiful_) when her fingers found the hot and waiting flesh beneath—clearly not expecting to find his dripping vent. His cocks had not emerged; nor were they likely to, at least not enough to ravage her properly. Wrestling down her earlier outburst had left him worn (curse the little whore), and he had no Essence on-hand to revitalise him (curse the one-eyed hag, curse whatever creature had felled skekMal). But there were other ways, venues he had until now not pursued, and skekSo laughed openly at her shock, pushing her fingers inside of him.

"Surely you have some experience here?" he mocked her, though he groaned as her digits wriggled frantically in the heat. "Or was the daughter of the All-Maudra too pure even to fuck herself on cold nights?"

The Gelfling (_Seladon_) murmured something incoherent in response; he cared not what she said. He cared only that the fingers began to move and curl of their own volition, clumsy but pleasant, and he released her wrist with a sigh.

She was exploratory, albeit hesitant, stroking his inner walls with a mixture of feather-light and firmer touches. When her three fingers proved insufficient, she tentatively slipped in her thumb as well, working her way easily to the wrist (how small her hands were, how delicate) and exploring him deeper. He groaned, low and approving, when she found the spot inside him where the barrier between his vent and sheath was thinnest, grinding his hips down against her touch; she repeated the same motion with a desperate fervor, apparently relieved to have found something he liked.

Clearly, she did have **some** experience here, meager as it might have been. It was easy to imagine her lying on her perfumed princess' bed at the Citadel, fumbling herself guiltily beneath the covers. Or—and he throbbed at the thought—perhaps she had touched herself here within the Castle, gliding her fingers through the spill he'd left inside of her.

"When was the last time you pleasured yourself, Seladon?" he asked aloud, drawing out her name to keep it longer between his teeth. She started, and her eyes (or the one she had use of) flew to meet his, wide with alarm and—yes, he saw it plainly there, _disgust_.

She did not, **would not** answer him. Very well, then; her tongue could be put to better use than _talking_.

Despite his wearied state, Seladon was light enough that he could still scoop her into his arms, laughing again when she shrieked and seized his robes in panic. He bore her into his bedchamber, depositing her with little ceremony onto his bed (noting with amusement how she scrambled quickly off it) before settling there himself, reclining languidly against the pillows.

"Come," he beckoned, spreading himself expectantly, "attend to me."

Seladon did not. Instead she stood there, staring wide-eyed at the space between his legs. She looked down at herself, still with that bewildered expression; then she looked to his face.

"I'm," she began; stopped, stepped back. "My Lord Emperor, I do not—I have no—"

"With your **mouth**." By the Crystal, it was like dealing with an especially dim-witted childling. "Or need I instruct you every step of the way?"

It was a long moment before Seladon moved, long enough that skekSo began to expect she **would** require his instruction. But she crawled onto the bed all the same, shuffling forward to kneel between his spread legs. He reached for her, pushing her head one-handed downward, and she went without a fight, a grimace the last glimpse he had of her face before she disappeared behind the curve of his belly, and he felt her mouth land tentatively on him.

At once skekSo knew there would be no physical satisfaction had from this encounter. The Gelfling wasn't just unskilled in this—she was utterly **inept**. Her tongue darted and flailed without direction, and too often she flinched away like skekEkt being fed a plate of that bog-dwelling fish he so detested. There would be no achieving climax from her clumsy attentions, and that fact alone was nearly enough for skekSo to wrench her away in irritation—but he restrained himself, instead keeping her head where it was until he absolutely could not stand it any longer, tired of the feeling like a worm wriggling across him.

"Enough." He released his grip on her scalp, bading her to lift her head. "Come here."

The look on Seladon's face was beyond relieved as she clambered up his body, limbs spread awkwardly to balance her weight without leaning on him. She paused every inch or so, moving again only when he tugged at her, until her face was scarcely a hair's breadth from the tip of his beak. The blood from her nose had mostly dried by now, but there were patches still glistening, smeared with his own slick. He took a moment to lap at it, drawing his tongue along the crease of her mouth, feeling her stiffen in fear when his jaws nearly engulfed her head.

"Turn around," he commanded, and she did so, still with that clumsy shuffle.

Her hair fell in a silver curtain down her back, her wings lowered but twitching with anxiety. With one hand skekSo brushed the strands aside, eyes hungrily following the length of her spine. The other hand stroked that same length, fondly pausing at the curve he had come to so adore. A light push had her leaning forward until her forehead touched his abdomen, leaving him with a generous view of her upturned arse.

"Magnificent," he purred, and leaned in to taste her.

The noise Seladon made was halfway between a scream and a sob, and skekSo thrilled to hear it. He dragged his tongue along the length of her cunt—slowly, so as to savour her, swiping languid strokes up the cleft of her backside before slipping down to repeat the motion. His sense of taste had dulled, but even so he could tell she was a flavour he could come to enjoy, particularly once he had her bottled in a glass vial. With every pass Seladon's breaths grew heavier, her body squirming until he had to seize her by the waist to keep her still, thumbs digging into the flesh just above the swell of her buttocks.

Truth be told he was not particularly invested in her climax, content to lick her until he grew bored of the effort. Nonetheless he clenched in delight when she shuddered against him—another way marked she could never erase. And she knew it, too, moaning miserably against his flesh while her body trembled and shook. He pushed her off of him, letting her sprawl face-down on the bedcovers while he licked her from his teeth.

"I suppose that will suffice," he granted, "for now." He had not achieved climax himself, but the disgust of her own would no doubt ensure that the lesson would stick in Seladon's mind. And it was not as though this was the last time he would have her—once they had the wayward traitors in their cells, there would be no shortage of Essence to fuel his virility. He would be able to take her over, and over, plumping her with despair like one of the beasts skekAyuk kept caged and force-fed, until their meat was heavy and sweet with fat.

(He wondered if there would be a similar effect on her Essence, when he eventually tired of her.)

On the bed below him, Seladon made a soft noise of relief, and began to claw herself to its edges. He watched her go, feeling a prickle of amusement at how she thought she could escape him so easily. He reconsidered, then, his acceptance of his own lack of climax; perhaps there was still use to be had of the Gelfling.

With one hand he grasped her ankle, halting her retreat; with the other he caressed her back, talons drawing mindless loops between the scars and bruises littering the skin there. The noise Seladon made then was one of alarm, and she began to squirm, torn between trying to escape and trying to turn and face him.

"I thought," she stammered, cringing from him like a flower in the frost, "you said—that that would suffice."

"Indeed," he agreed, "it will. You have proven the sincerity of your apology; the time for penance is over." Seladon let out a heavy breath, only to choke on it when he lowered himself against her, his weight driving her small body into the bedcovers. He could feel every curve of her pressed against him, molded like clay on a sculptor's wheel, her trapped wings fluttering helplessly. He nosed her silver hair out of the way, exposing her nape; saliva dripped from his maw as he closed his jaws around the column of her neck, reveling in how her body went shock-still in fear.

_'Now,'_ he thought gleefully, _'it is time for **amusement**.'_


End file.
